


The Dae Llewellyn Ward

by appalachian_fireflies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: By chance, both Remus and Severus end up in the Dae Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites.  Post Battle of Hogwarts.





	The Dae Llewellyn Ward

**Author's Note:**

> assume here that 1) Tonks had birth control because she was an Auror fighting a war, dear lord 2) that Tonks was hit directly with AK, and Remus was nearby 
> 
> This was a lil drabble sitting on my hard drive, and I thought it might be fun to post it!

Remus was sent to the Dae Llewellyn ward, it turned out, on accident. 

Amid the stream of bodies being sent to St. Mungos after the battle at Hogwarts, they had seen yet another "werewolf" scrawled in his file and hastily redirected his unconscious body to the ward for serious bites. 

By the time they had realized their error, they couldn't be arsed to care. He was a quiet, unobtrusive patient- more plainly, he didn't regain consciousness until his second week in the ward. 

The Killing Curse, even one that a patient had not borne the full brunt of, was nothing to sneeze at.

When Remus did finally wake, alive and still mostly paralyzed, he wished he hadn't. In all his scenarios of the possible outcomes of this war, he had not imagined that Dora, young and quick to laugh, might die while he lived. He should have known better- hadn't it been him, sick, impoverished, mistrusted, who had lived while James and Lily Potter had died?

He realized, as he lay there day after day, fingers slowly beginning to twitch, to grasp spoons, that he hadn't had a contingency plan for living. The hospital bill alone would be more than he could pay off in a lifetime, and now that his face had been plastered across the Prophet the prospect of paid work was nearly impossible. He could attempt to make his way back to India if Umbridge's restrictions were repealed, but it seemed a bit cruel to Harry. 

Nearly every day since he'd first been committed to the ward, Harry had come by to visit, at first simply to keep up a stream of words even though Remus could not speak. He told him about the demise of Voldemort, the rebuilding of the castle, and one day came in with a look of bewildered pride and announced Ginny had agreed to marry him. 

Remus had managed a hoarse congratulations, even as he felt a stab of pain- he imagined he'd worn nearly the same expression when he had realized Dora loved him. The simultaneous sense of paternal pride was why he could not leave England- he was Harry's last link to his parents, and after so much loss he couldn't truly entertain the thought of buggering off as he had in 1981. He would stay. He would figure something out. He had plenty of time to worry himself sick in the meantime. 

Naturally, it was Harry who told him of Snape's hand in the downfall of the Dark Lord, the vicious attack he'd endured and very nearly died from at the fangs of his serpent. Predictably, Severus had a contingency plan- after seeing so many who had betrayed the Dark Lord killed in this manner, he had found it prudent to carry a healthy dose of an antidote to the venom. 

It was not until after the night of the full moon when he had been brought down to transform in the Ministry's cells and wheeled back to the ward afterwards that he first saw Severus. 

Or, rather, heard him.

"You insufferable wretch," a deep voice croaked down the hall, "How dare you condescend to me, as if my mental faculties were not intact! That you are paid a full salary to force fingerpaints upon the crippled is galling. Yes, go! And in the future, find an occupation worth the air you breathe!"

Remus, muscles still shaking with the pain of the transformation and still feeling vaguely as if he might vomit, smiled. 

Remus worked his painstaking way to having just enough control over his fingers to feed himself, urinate on his own (thank the gods), and finally to operate a charmed chair that would take him out of his room. 

This afforded him only enough freedom to venture to the shared room where patients could socialize under the watchful eyes of medical professionals. In the afternoons, an aggressively compassionate witch named Hilda led them in small crafts. Several of the patients seemed to take comfort in her attentive interest as they struggled to make meaning of their suffering, and drew strength from her belief in their recovery. 

Remus loathed her. 

It wasn't entirely fair, he realized. It certainly wasn't something he was proud of. But on the fifth day that she coaxed him from his perch gazing out the charmed window currently opening to the depths of the ocean, he thought, _call me honey again, and I will bite you._

Even Harry's visits had begun to exhaust him; he did not want to tell Harry that he was getting better, that yes, he would be out of here in no time, that he felt very grateful- he would nearly make a full recovery, after all. There were other words on the tip of his tongue that he could not possibly tell the boy- that sometimes, he thought he missed the war. 

It was somewhere in the depths of this masturbatory angst, lingering in the doorway of his room, unsure if he might be more miserable staring at the bare walls of his room and navel gazing or socializing under the piercing stare of the crafts witch, that he heard the sharp clatter of a metal tray. 

"Bancroft! Only Bancroft may make my potions, you imbecile! I will not accept this- oh, you're certain there are no poisons? Halfwit. Do you know how easily those tests are fooled? I betrayed the Dark Lord- has it not crossed your mind how many wish to see me suffer?"

A moment later, a young man emerged from the room, goblet in hand. "I wouldn't mind," he muttered to himself, then looked up to see Remus. 

"Oh, hello Mr.Lupin," he smiled. 

"Good afternoon, Bessel," Remus wheeled past him, silently thanking the mishap of paperwork that had brought him here- it was difficult to last on this ward with a phobia towards werewolves. 

"You don't want to see ‘im," Bessel warned Remus, who had made his way to Severus' door.

"He's an old friend," Remus reassured him. 

Bessel looked at him in disbelief. 

"A coworker," Remus amended. "We went to school together." 

"Your funeral, I s'pose," Bessel shook his head. 

Severus' head was turned away from the door, and he ignored Remus as he wheeled slowly to his bedside.

"Is she sending in scouts now to coerce me into creating sculptures out of broomstick twigs?" Snape's baritone cut through his still torn throat like gravel. 

"Hello, Severus," Remus greeted.

Snape whirled at this, and Remus controlled his reaction to the sight of him a moment too late. One eye was bloodshot all the way through, the other still swollen shut. In fact, entirely half of his face was grotesquely swollen; it was not difficult to imagine bones crunched beneath jaws and pieced together again.

"Lupin," Snape sneered, "I thought you were dead." 

"Reports of my death were exaggerated, I'm afraid." 

"I should have known," Snape pushed himself, shaking, onto his elbows. "Dark creatures are notoriously difficult to dispose of."

"Not up to your usual standard, Severus," Remus smiled. "And, as you yelled at Hilda the other day, your cognitive faculties are intact, so I shan't cut you any slack."

"That woman does not need nor deserve your pity."

"Perhaps not, " Remus allowed. "She is rather tenacious, isn't she?"

"She has the inexhaustible glee of the Demented given a victim to Kiss," Snape muttered.

"That's better," Remus wheeled himself to Severus' bedside.

"Leave, Lupin," Snape turned his head again, hiding his disfigured face. Remus could see that under the swathes of bandages, his chest and arms were a mass of swelling and purpling bruising. 

"Do you know," Remus continued, "I think we may just be the last of our class? Certainly of the Gryffindors and Slytherins."

"You say that as if we have some shared history to fondly recollect, instead of the torment your dear friends inflicted upon me. We could, if you like, talk about that time you tried to rip me apart with your teeth, but I'm not sure you would remember that as well as I do." 

Remus snorted. "As if you never gave back twice as good as you got."

"Well," Snape smiled fondly at that. "I do remember Potter and Black shouting their carnal love for one another at breakfast."

"That was inspired," Remus chuckled, remembering two boys standing atop the breakfast table, hooting audience gathered below. When Severus didn’t resort to retaliatory cruelty, he had a sarcastic streak that was nearly likeable. Unfortunately, it did not show itself often. 

"We are not friends," Severus frowned at him. 

"No," Remus agreed. "You are my captive audience. Hilda doesn't come for me when I'm speaking with someone else. And the other patients care that I lost my wife, my family, and all of my friends."

"I would rather be bitten again than listen to your sob story."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"The peace and quiet I enjoyed before you tried to foist your problems upon me?"

"The war," Remus said softly. "Having a sense of purpose to get you through. Feeling like you were needed."

Snape's single bloody eye widened. "You are insane, Lupin," he rasped. "Though perhaps that would make sense to a beast. Connected a bit too much with the inner animal, hmm?"

Remus watched him, silent.

Severus broke his gaze with a huff, and rolled away onto his side. “Leave. Spare me your nattering.”

"Get some rest, Severus," Remus replied, and wheeled himself back to his room. 

*

Remus returned the next day with a chess set, which he unfolded onto a stainless steel medical tray.

"You only have to concentrate on where you'd like the pieces to move," Remus explained. "It's charmed."

"Explain to me why I would do that," Severus lifted a violently trembling hand to brush the hair from his eyes. 

"Because you're bored," Remus shrugged. "You've got to be, sitting in here all day."

"Perhaps I enjoy the company of my own mind," Severus replied, "more than mentally unsound werewolves." 

"Your stipulation was that I be silent," Remus gestured to the chessboard. "This doesn't require speech."

"Stipulation makes it sound as if I gave you terms under which you could visit me," Snape peered at the chessboard. "I'll take the black."

Severus seemed surprised when Remus held his own and nearly won. Remus thought he should be offended, but he found he didn't much have the energy to care. 

"What will you do when you leave here?" Remus asked.

"I thought we had agreed not to speak," Snape frowned. The shattered chess pieces were realigning themselves, erstwhile arms scrabbling across the board to join their bodies.

"I thought you never actually gave me a stipulation."

"I will be free of both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. I will do what I wish."

"I don't know what I'll do either," Remus folded up the board, suddenly tired. "Thank you for the game, Severus."

*

Harry visited the next day, pacing the room the entire time with a barely contained nervous energy. Molly Weasley had decided that the wedding preparations should be underway, and Remus was adrift in a sea of talk about the appropriate flower to symbolize Harry's love for Ginny. 

Remus tried to be the father Harry needed, but the more Harry paced, the more the room seemed strange and far away. Remus had a recollection of Dora admiring a sunflower in the field surrounding the Burrow, how appropriate that was, how open she was to life and to love, like Lily. Lilies, the flower of high summer, warm and vibrant.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus said softly, "I'm feeling very tired today."

*

"Harry and Ginny have scheduled a date for the wedding," Remus' white knight advanced.

"Pity. Ginerva was a passably clever student."

"They've invited you."

"Oh joy. Oh rapture unforeseen."

A black knight, after careful consideration, moved left. 

"He asked me about flowers. I couldn't stop thinking about Lily."

At this, Severus stiffened. 

"I wonder, sometimes, what advice she would give. She always knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing to say."

"She would tell you that your need to be liked is so pathological that you are recalling the memory of a woman some twenty years lost to ask how to best serve her son's needs. Your move, Lupin."

Remus moved his pawn forward, and Severus swiftly captured it. 

"If you are not here for the game, I think you would be better served by the company of the other patients," Severus crossed his arms over his chest. Remus wondered when he might be able to leave his room unaided. 

"You must check that tendency to shoot yourself in the foot."

"A muggle expression," Severus leaned forward to watch his queen take Remus' king.

"We were both raised half muggle," Remus leaned back. 

"Yet another thing we can reminisce over," Snape's eyes narrowed. "Our incandescent childhoods."

"My childhood was fine," Remus became acutely aware of the fact the game had finished. 

"Ah, yes,” Snape sneered. “I can picture it now. Gay romps through grassy fields, a healthy appetite for human flesh…”

Remus watched Snape quietly until the tirade petered out. "Same time tomorrow, then, Severus." Remus closed the board with a snap. 

Snape did not contradict him.

*

"I thought we might try a rune riddle," Remus held the paper up. "Bit of a change of pace."

"Tired of being beaten?" Severus looked at the paper with interest. 

"I beat you plenty," Remus passed the paper to Severus, who held it with a hand that only trembled slightly. "I beat you at least a third of the time."

"A quarter," Severus muttered. "This first rune is fire."

"Yes," Remus took the paper back, "the third line is the one I couldn't parse."

"Give me the quill," Severus demanded, and Remus handed it over without comment, watching him struggle to write with his non-dominant hand.

"Harry wants me to be part of the ceremony."

"Hmm," Severus squinted at the rune puzzle.

"I'm flattered," Remus sighed, "but when I'm around him, I feel like I'm trying to be the ghost of James."

Severus put the paper down. "Lupin," he rubbed his functional hand across his forehead, "you are miserable because you have spent your entire life attempting to anticipate and cater to the needs of others. You are not a house elf. You are a man."

"I don't think Hermione would appreciate that comparison."

"Granger is a-"

"Smart, compassionate young woman," Remus finished. "I can't just," he sighed. "Harry needs me. He deserves this. He's suffered enough." 

"We've all suffered," Severus muttered. "Now be quiet and let me think."

*

"You didn't come yesterday," Severus said. 

Remus blinked. "I- it was a full moon."

Severus' eyes closed briefly. "Of course."

Remus felt a grin break over his face. "You missed me."

Snape glared. "I don't have much choice for company."

“Oh, don’t martyr yourself,” Remus tossed the morning paper at him. “You’ve run off anyone who tried to show you kindness.” 

Severus looked surprised, briefly, at his bluntness. "And yet you keep returning to be abused," he recovered quickly, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged. He hunched over the paper. "You've already done the interesting bit," Snape glared from beneath his lank hair.

"I missed you too."

*

“They’re releasing me tomorrow,” Remus said conversationally, stirring a godawful amount of sugar into Severus’ tea. The anti-wobble charm was not quite enough to counteract Severus’ tremor in any two-handed task, and they both pretended amnesia at the first episode of spilt tea and sugar all over the linens. 

“Hilda will find other victims,” Severus took the tea in his left hand. “Though none quite as compellingly pathetic as yourself, I’m sure.” 

“You’ve only to ask, Severus,” Remus met his eyes. “I’ll come visit.” 

“We’re not friends, Lupin,” Snape’s eyes narrowed. Both lids retracted smoothly now, the swelling faded to a sickly green and black mottle of bruises, two dark puncture marks beneath the right eye. 

Remus watched him, quiet. 

“What is it, wolf?” Severus sat up, infuriated at the judgement he felt in the silence. Lupin’s easy retreat gave him no satisfaction, his containment no victory. “Are you so desperate in your loneliness that you thought I might consort with you of my own free will?” He sneered. “Had you imagined I would drop by whatever den you’ve crawled into with tea and biscuits? Pathetic, crippled mongrel-“

Remus regarded him for a moment. The expression was brief, but Severus was a master of reading intention. This was not anger, or hurt. It was pity. 

Remus stood with his tea, almost elegant despite the hospital robe and noticeable limp. He walked out, and without raising his wand the door swung and clicked shut behind him. 

Sound cut out all at once, and Severus could hear only his own quick, enraged breaths, steadying over slow minutes.


End file.
